The Purpose of Rain
by Mishieru-Sama
Summary: Be for me like the night rain, fall upon me so that I may be reborn. Wash away my sins and regrets to sooth my distempered soul, help me to remember what I must be to myself. Bring me to new life, so that I may learn to live again. - Poem by me.


Ok my darlings, this is my official disclaimer/warning/request:

I do not own any of Masashi Kishimoto's Characters. Naruto characters belong to the Naruto creator. I am not Masashi Kishimoto… THEREFORE… I do not own. Very simple. P.s. I make NO monies from this.

FYI:  
-Yes, this story is set in the future.  
-Yes, I did do research while setting up my plot.  
-Yes, I have slightly warped a few details concerning certain abilities.  
-Yes, the characters may not seem to be completely in character. But I'll try.  
-No, you did not miss any wayward Senju clan members in the Naruto Anime/Manga. Takara and Amaya are creations of MY imagination.  
-Yes, I love getting reviews so please do, I'll be sure to address any questions/comments in the chapters afterwards.

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The Purpose of Rain. Ch.1 – A Not So Simple Request.

In a quiet room with pale cream walls, shoji screen doors, and hard wood floors a man stood over a woman. Not just any woman, _the_ woman, the one he had spent the last six years and countless resources searching for, the only woman who could fulfill his desire. He had not fully believed in her existence at first; but then when every lead you follow ultimately turns into a dead end and your failure forces you to start from the beginning, time after time, you begin to wonder if you're chasing nothing more than shadows and phantoms. Despite the failures, he had refused to give up he simply couldn't. He could never give up so long as there were stories of her, as obscure as they might possibly be… they had to come from some where, every story starts with a kernel of truth.

Oh yes, there had been more than one moment when he had wondered if she were truly just a myth, if he should just give up and focus on maybe finding another way to achieve his goals, but something had always turned up. A story slipping past the ears of one of his men, or word from other villages of a woman with no name floating on the wind kept him going. And now, here she was. His steadfast determination to find the one who could help him had paid off. As intelligent as she was, as quick as she had been, she wasn't wholly perfect. She had finally made a mistake he had caught up to her, and now he had her. The direct descendent of the second Hokage, a shinobi practiced in the forbidden arts, and a woman as immortal as himself.

"You've been hiding…all these years." The demure form shifted as she sat at his feet, dark red-orange eyes lifted to survey his face; the emotion that filled them was nothing short of loathing and they shimmered with a rage hotter than fire. Her slender hands lay still in her silk covered lap, the black kimono she had been given was fitting attire for her current outlook on life. She had nothing but despair and anger now and that was how he wanted her to be. For that reason he had not come to see her until tonight, he was pleased with himself for so easily predicting her reaction. When he had stepped into the room he had no doubt she knew who he was. It was more than obvious in the disdain she had for him, only apparent in the way her beautiful face contorted in anger. She hadn't spoken a word directly to him until now, "That is generally what one does when they wish to not be found. Madara." Ah yes, she definitely knew who he was.

Lowering himself down into a crouch beside her he lifted his hand to cup her chin in his long fingers, tilting the face that resembled her father so much. "Tobirama would be disappointed to know his blood ran through such a coward, or perhaps you are intentionally trying to tarnish the reputation that precedes you… Senju Takara." The corner of his mouth tilted into a smirk when her eyes widened and indignation set in at his insult. Takara jerked away from the man who touched her. Her quick movement created a soft metallic clinking with the chains connected to the metal binding around both wrists. She leaned back, as far as she could without losing her balance and disgracing herself by falling over.

Her captor's lips curled into a sadistic smile and Madara leaned in closer, not seeming to care if he abused her personal space. "Do not forget I hold all the cards in this game." She turned her head to look out the window she sat closest to, silent insolence was her only way of exercising what little power she had in the situation. Unfortunately Madara did not seem to mind her silence, instead of becoming angry he gracefully lowered himself to the floor. Intending to sit with her for however long it took to receive the only outcome he would accept.

He pulled a black lacquered box from the folds of his robes opening it to reveal old fashioned playing cards. Turning her head back to watch him he shuffled the deck and carefully dealt them out on the low table that they were seated next to. "Does she have your talents? To be honest, I haven't seen or spoken to her yet." He watched as Takara's classical features hardened and her full mouth thinned into a hard slash. "You have no business with her…" Madara tapped the small stack of cards he had dealt out between them. "I assume you are old enough to know how to play this game. Your father played it with his brother quiet often," watching her quietly until she picked up her cards he continued in the same low and calm voice, "After you have fulfilled your purpose, she will have no one left in this world. Why throw away perfectly good talent."

Takara laid down a card and listened to his words. "Let her go, or I will do nothing for you." He tilted his head to the side and laid down a card of his own, "That is the difficult part… my men wouldn't have known she even existed if she hadn't been trying to find you." Takara stayed silent as she looked over her cards then quietly picked up another, leaving him free to continue speaking. "When I was told my men had captured not only you but your daughter as well… I began to calculate the possibilities." "She is nothing special." A soft laughing caught her attention, distracting her enough to lift her eyes from her hand to see him shake his head as he played through his turn. "Do not underestimate me… I know every Senju is more than competent. What I want to know is if she is like you and I, how strong is she, and if she is worth keeping alive." Absorbed in his cards, as he seemed to be, Madara did not miss the slight tremble that had taken up in Takara's hands. "All good mothers protect their children do they not? You can either tell me or I can find out for myself."

She picked up another card and laid it down, biding her time before answering. "She is like us…and she is adept." Madara nodded, his dark hair shifting around his shoulders. "How long has she been like us? And how is it that you have managed immortality without the Sharingan?" Takara sighed, "She is only 23…I do not know for sure if she is wholly immortal. I've done nothing but give her life. She simply has just stopped aging. As far as I can see… the effects of my own alteration, which happened before her birth, have run deeper than I would have ever dreamed." Takara lifted her eyes to look at Madara again who was concentrating on her now, more than his cards. "I see, but, you did not answer my second question…" "It is a secret that I will carry into death with me, I refuse to inflict this upon anyone else." Madara laid down his cards, fingers lingering on them as they laid face up on the table. He figured that her path to immortality had been one that required great sacrifices. He did not care though, he had more important things to speak about, "Then you have resigned yourself to doing this for me?"

Takara let her head hang, her pale hair falling over her shoulders to hide her face behind curtains of white silk. "I do nothing for you…" Her hair shifted and she caught a glimpse of Madara's fingers gently curling strands of her hair around his fingertips. "Would you be more at peace if I promised to take care of her?" Takara lifted her head, caught off guard by this man's sudden compassion towards her. Would she be more at peace if he took care of her daughter? Could she deliver such innocence into his hands? "If by 'taking care' of her you mean to use her in any way… no. I would not wish for that." Red eyes surveyed her face and he shook his head quietly, the coldness was gone from him. So long as she cooperated with him, he would see all her needs and wishes met. "What you will do for me is something no one else can… I will honor any requests you make in regards to your daughter."

Takara looked down at her hands, she was still holding her cards and they trembled in her shaking fingers. Closing her eyes she slid the thick pieces of paper together and laid the stack on the table atop of Madara's cards. "I wish to write down for her my testament to what is happening… am I allowed to do that?" Madara nodded quietly, "Of course. I will not object." Takara lifted her hands to put them to her lips, Madara could only guess she was trying not to cry. "Do you wish to see her before you do this for me?" Takara looked to him and her eyes were glossy with unshed tears. "Yes…please." Madara nodded and carefully picked himself up off the floor. "I will bring you a scroll and ink… tomorrow night, I will have your daughter brought to you." "Amaya…" Madara paused and glanced back to Takara, "Amaya?" "That's my daughters name…Amaya" The man bowed his head and left her alone to the silence.

Takara quietly put her hands on the table then lowered herself down on to the smooth surface, pushing her hands out to spread the cards Madara had left. When much like her life, the cards were in proper disarray, she closed her eyes and let the tears come.

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Hokay. Just a few little things I guess.

Takara's name is Japanese and means: Treasure

Amaya's name is Japanese and means: Night Rain

(Secret: All my names are picked for a reason. Hu hu hu! Sneaky!)


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